


Moments

by IllusionaryEnnui



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Art, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 09:24:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3376328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IllusionaryEnnui/pseuds/IllusionaryEnnui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We are given so many moments in a life, moments to enjoy and to fear. We want to hold on to them, each so separate yet divine. Without, what are we? || Dorian x M!Trevelyan Mage;  A Valentine’s Gift for a good friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moments

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slugette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slugette/gifts).



> A belated Valentine’s set of ficlets for my dear slugette, involving her Inquisitor, Yvad Trevelyan, and Dorian Pavus. Each little piece corresponds to an image within a set of sketches by slugette, found [here](http://slugette.tumblr.com/post/110762125795).

[ **** ](http://slugette.tumblr.com/post/110762125795)

 

[ Art used with permission from [slugette](slugette.tumblr.com). ]

* * *

**First Moment**

_Whispering, breathless_  
_A trail of kisses painted  
_ _You and me, our world_

An languid arm drapes across olive shoulders, warm and inviting. Yvad’s lips trace the gentle pulse where it tripped beneath the bronze skin. Curving, a smile dances, playful mirth like the warm breezes through Minrathous. His moustache pulls with it, groomed to perfection as always. That smile grows broader with every word Yvad etches onto his skin, every muttered praise.

“Amatus, such honeyed adulation shall keep us abed for hours if you intend to continue.”

“The war room can wait.” The Trevelyan keeps his mouth parted, open to the rumble of words and the sweet, salty savour of skin. “I can desist, if you’d prefer?”

Dorian holds his silence instead.

* * *

 

**Second Moment**

_Nesting, intertwined_  
_Gold light and flutters given  
_ _Your spine bent for me_

Morning, spun shafts of saffron stretch. Tendrils of the vibrant glow and heat twin across the pale expanse before him.

“I could keep you like this all day.” Tevinter kisses, edged in the softest brush of the man’s dark moustache, pepper the lean shoulder. Each one left a breathy imprint, pooled on the flesh.

Yvad presses back into their caress, his arms folded beneath his chest. Soothed, he loses himself in them, the Fade’s chains far from him and replaced by a lover’s embrace. The hands curl about him, furled over taut muscles. They become his anchor against the nightmares, what brought a joy where the night brought fear. To wake up to that man, to have his back protected and love?

“It’s worth waking up to.”

* * *

**Third Moment**

_Hunger and fire_  
_Will manifested to sear  
_ _Reckless abandon_

He can’t hear Mother Giselle singing the Chant anymore. Only the sound of his heart, the tell-tale thump-thump, the rush. He hears rustle of ivory leather, the ping of metal against metal. He hears his lover’s breath swallowed by his own, a hot taste of life given form. Dorian tastes of more, of cinnamon and magic. The effervescent scent of thunderstorms clings to Yvad’s skin.

Tongues wag, twisting. Savouring. Every part explored. Fingers tear, grasping. He wants to clasp him close until nothing remained between them. He doesn’t want to breathe but that the other’s exhale. In the corner, in the gardens – they are themselves, alone.

But it is not enough.

For either of them.

“Upstairs?”

* * *

 

**Fourth Moment**

_It feels like quiet_  
_Not the darker brood of hate  
_ _Acceptance, wholly_

It’s a stolen press, forehead against forehead. His brow is too hot, dappled in sweat. But he knows this is real, that he’s welcome here. Where the winds of Minrathous wind through his hair, through his fingers, slips something newer, more precious. Ebony strands and amethyst hues – they create a different home, a palette of his own choosing.

“Let’s stay like this.”

* * *

 

**Fifth Moment**

_Clutching, private song_  
_Such truth pulled to see me free  
_ _Will you tell me it?_

He tells him to come back. He tells him to be safe. Tapered digits hook into the wrap of leather, tugging as if he can merge into it, root himself into the hide. Each time they stand there, the precipice of uncertainty, he wonders – how long can this last?

“If you don’t come back, I’ll go to the Void myself to find you.”

He means it.

* * *

 

**Sixth Moment**

_Relief singing bright_  
_What more blessings may I find?  
_ _Amatus, welcome._

The weight wrapping him feels like home again. It feels like hope, like he never need to pretend again. He’s free under the kiss crashed onto his cheek, lips skimming over the scuplted bone. He’s happy. The blood and travel dust on him fades, washed away in the kitchens where it would not worry or fester. He’s clean, free of the Venatori until the Inquisition calls for him again - he can’t take him now. In the young man’s hands, there’s nothing like that warmth, that pleasured aura filling him, lightening the shadows.

“Welcome home, _amatus_.”

It builds a chorus, thrumming. He likes to hear it from that voice, the endearment he had taught him. It trembles from a lover’s tongue and it is more welcoming, more alluring and reassuring than any other word given sound.

“Ah, it’s good to be home.”


End file.
